


Some Kind of Easy Mark

by weary_kind



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anxiety, Assault, Bad guys Dying, Betrayal, Education is important, Evil Gerard Argent, F/M, Helpful Alan Deaton, Injury Recovery, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Maybe don't read if you have problems with the following:, Not Canon Compliant, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels, References to Torture, Sort Of, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, Stilinski Family Feels, Stops with the canon thing at the end of season 2, Stress, The Alpha Pack, not Argent friendly, not Scott friendly, off-screen sexual assault, up to a point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weary_kind/pseuds/weary_kind
Summary: “Ugggh.” He could still roll his eyes, that didn’t hurt at least. “Werewolves.”Maybe if he ignored him, Peter would leave. Except, no. No, he was not leaving. Instead, he calmly walked over and took a seat next to Stiles’ hip on the bed. Which had the unfortunate chain reaction of the mattress dipping and the pain springing up sharply at the movement.“What is this? Is this from crashing the jeep?” Shockingly, it sounded like actual concern. And surely, Peter could see the ugly bruising on the side of his face. He had to know Stiles was hurt. It just angered him all the more.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 71
Kudos: 566





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, when people don't live in small towns, they forget just how far apart things can be. For example, Beacon Hills was a small town. Sure, it had a neighboring city-like town, Beacon Heights, but ‘The Hills’ had that whole rural thing going for it.

The thing is, rural places were more spread out than someone from the city might think. So when Stiles found himself summarily dumped outside of the Argent house and had to find his way out of there on foot, someone from the city might not automatically realize that he had to walk over ten miles just to get back to the school parking lot to pick up his jeep.

And really, walking to the school was saving him from having to walk an additional six miles to get to his house.

By the time the night was over, after he had crashed his Jeep into the side of a building for Jackson Douchmore, Stiles was pretty sure it was the walking that had aggravated the whole situation with his ribs.

They were definitely injured towards the back of his side, maybe bruised. He didn’t know if they were fractured, but it really hurt to touch them. Laying on his stomach was not his preferred way of sleeping, but once he was actually in bed, even the slightest twitch had him crying out in pain.

Finding a comfortable sleeping position was out, never mind trying to actually get up.

He was thankful the person who found him the next morning was not his father, even if he wasn’t necessarily happy to see the man crawling in his window.

Honestly, he’d expected Scott. Possibly Isaac, Derek as a last resort kind of option. But he’d never factored into seeing Peter, recently resurrected apparently, climbing gracefully inside his window.

Peter spent a good thirty seconds just watching Stiles where he was laying. And then, “I can hear your heartbeat going like crazy, but I’m surprised at the lack of commentary.”

“ _Crazy…”_ Stiles mumbled back. “That’s funny, considering.” His back let out a twinge of protest when his body automatically tried to throw out an arm waive in the wolf’s direction. Which was unfortunate because that particular wolf missed nothing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Peter asked, eyes narrowed.

Stiles squinted right back. It was entirely possible that Peter had come here to get revenge for Stiles’ part in the whole _death_ thing. In which case, he couldn’t really do anything right now to prevent further injury to his person. So. That sucked.

But there was something in the put-upon sigh the man let out that made him less concerned with Peter’s potential revenge plans, and more annoyed at his audacity for asking in the first place. “What’s wrong with _you?_ How are you even here? I watched Derek kill you.”

And that was a good idea, wasn’t it? Prod the scary werewolf into remembering why he should want to hurt you.

Peter didn’t latch onto it though, he just shrugged a shoulder and casually informed him, “It didn’t stick.”

“Ugggh.” He could still roll his eyes, that didn’t hurt at least. “Werewolves.”

Maybe if he ignored him, Peter would leave. Except, no. No, he was not leaving. Instead, he calmly walked over and took a seat next to Stiles’ hip on the bed. Which had the unfortunate chain reaction of the mattress dipping and the pain springing up sharply at the movement.

“What is this? Is this from crashing the jeep?” Shockingly, it sounded like actual concern. And surely, Peter could see the ugly bruising on the side of his face. He _had_ to know Stiles was hurt. It just angered him all the more.

“Does it look like it’s from the fucking jeep?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. That’s why I’m asking.” Stiles didn’t know where the man’s patience came from, or if it was even genuine. But he was a little bit happy for it when Peter helped him roll over to his side.

He let out his own sigh and gave a sincere response, “I don’t think Grandpa Argent liked it when I called him a senior citizen.”

And there was the flash of blue that Stiles had always thought looked so fitting on Derek. Granted his face looked like he was contemplating murder, but if nothing else, at least Peter wasn’t an Alpha still.

“Gerard did this?” Peter bit out.

“Yeah. He had everyone distracted with the whole Jackson thing. And then Allison… I guess she learned how to do some distracting of her own.”

Turns out, laughing hurts injured ribs. Even if it was only a tired, resigned chuckle.

“Come on, you need to be looked at.” Peter tried to prod him into sitting up, but Stiles immediately protested.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to push the gentle fingers away. “I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t have my dad… I can’t.”

Peter seemed to accept the refusal and sat back down, “Okay. At least let me see. If it isn’t that bad maybe it doesn’t need a doctor.”

Since when did Peter care? It was weird. Everything was so weird. Even the judgmental tch from the wolf as he lifted Stiles’ shirt to see the purpling bruises already forming on his back. And then the warm feeling as some of the pain started to be replaced by a soft hand. So weird.

“Tha’s nice,” he slurred, happy he could recline a bit without hurting. “Your hands warm.”

“It usually is,” Peter indulged him with a smile. “But that’s not why you feel nice. I’m taking a little of the pain so we can get you up and moving. This needs medical attention.” 

Stiles fought against the sleepy fog in his head. “What? No. You said no doctors. I’m not… Peter.”

“Stiles. Judging by the bruising on your side I would bet money that something is broken in there. You don’t have to go to the hospital, but you do need to see someone.”

“Why are you helping me? We killed you, you should hate me.”

Now that the pain was a bit more tolerable, Stiles was able to accept Peter’s help to get off the bed and slip on his shoes. It wasn’t until they made it to the bottom of the stairs that something Peter had said caught his attention.

“If we’re not going to the hospital, where are you taking me?”

Peter simply answered that he knew a doctor before getting them situated in his car. Huh. He’d brought his car. Stiles supposed if Peter knew a doctor and they were willing to see him off the books, that might be okay. It also helped that Peter kept taking his pain for the whole five-minute car ride.

At least, it was until Peter pulled into a parking spot. “The vet? You brought me to the vet?”

“He’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, for animals.”

“Trust me Stiles,” Peter assured him, “He saw my family whenever we needed someone. Even the humans.”

Stiles huffed out a, “Fine,” before gingerly lifting himself from the car. “But if he tries to take my temperature from my ass, I’m shoving wolfsbane up yours.”

Peter walked ahead to get the clinic door. “Do you think about my ass often Stiles?”

“Right, because I’m into zombies now.”

Deaton was certainly surprised to see them, but after one look at Stiles’ side when Peter shoved his shirt up (much to Stiles’ vicious objections), he ushered them in the back room quickly.

The scans showed very prominent breaks in two of the ribs. Which shut Stiles up when Deaton insisted that no, he could not have just slept it off. The severe bruising on the cheekbone was something Deaton looked at too, but thankfully it wasn’t broken.

He also told Stiles he was lucky to not have a concussion. Funny enough, Stiles didn’t feel too lucky just then. But he was thankful for the free scans on his ribs. And the ice packs. And for the cream for his face. He declined the offer of narcotics when Peter tutted and insisted he could manage Stiles’ pain on his own.

He didn’t know what Peter expected to get out of this moment of generosity, and he was grateful Deaton wasn’t charging him. But he did have one favor to ask, “Could you not tell Scott? About all of this?”

Deaton raised a critical eyebrow, “I thought you two were best friends. You don’t think he would want to know?”

Stiles watched him for a moment, and no – there was no figuring that man out without direct questioning. So, instead of answering he asked a question of his own. “Did you know what Scott was planning with the mountain ash?”

“Yes, he asked me if I thought ingested mountain ash could stop a transformation. I said it was very likely, and I helped him replace Gerard’s pills with false medication.”

Stiles nodded, it was a good answer. Very forthcoming, surprisingly. “Did you know he was going to trick Derek into giving Gerard the bite?”

For all of Deaton’s ability to stay cool and placid no matter the situation, he slipped for about half a second and Stiles saw shock run across his face. “I was under the impression Derek had agreed to the plan.”

Peter snorted in the corner, but thankfully didn’t comment.

“I see.” And what exactly Deaton saw was anyone’s guess.

“So, you won’t tell Scott?”

“While I don’t think the answer to secrets between friends is adding more secrets, I can understand why you might want to keep this to yourself for now.”

This time Peter did speak up. “That’s not an answer. Will you tell Scott about this or not?”

Deaton considered the former alpha in the corner. “No, I will not.”

“And you’ll swear that on the oaths you took as emissary to the Hale pack?”

Stiles looked between them in confusion, “What’s an emissary?”

Peter gave a tight smile. “It’s a magic user who has sworn fealty to a pack. Dr. Deaton here used to be the Hale pack emissary before Kate’s attack. Druids like him, while not terribly powerful, are in fact magic users.”

“I protected your family to the best of my abilities.” Deaton had gone stone faced again. “While the ending of our relationship was tragic, I will honor my former oaths and maintain Mr. Stilinski’s privacy. If that is your wish.”

“Good.” Peter announced, standing a bit straighter. “Then it’s settled.” 

Deaton looked like he had more to say, but a ringing cellphone cut him off.

“It’s my dad, hang on.” Stiles took the call to the other side of the room while Peter and Deaton shared what looked like heated whispers.

He didn’t get to hear anything, but his dad wanted him to bring his overnight bag to the station. Apparently, he was going to be spending the next few nights there putting out a few fires. 

While it sucked that his dad wasn’t going to be around for most of the next week, it gave him time to deal with his injuries without so much of an audience. That being said, the jeep needed work and Peter wasn’t inclined to let him drive himself to the station.

That’s actually what he said. “Stiles, I’m not inclined to see you driving around town with those injuries. Did you hear the part where Deaton said six to eight weeks limited mobility?”

The fact that it was Peter of all people taking on a mother hen role in Stiles’ life... _Weird._

The ride to the station was fine though. And right before Stiles went in to drop off the bags, Peter pulled some more pain. Which was nice. But it went a touch overboard when they got back and Peter made a little nest on his bed of blankets and pillows to keep him in place before leaving. What if he needed to go to the bathroom? How was he supposed to climb out? But the heavy pain draw Peter did, _again¸_ pretty much knocked him out so really? Those were all questions for later.

Later turned out to be about thirty minutes. So, that wasn’t cool.

Stiles woke up from his doze to see not one wolf, but two climbing in through his window. Peter had kindly left it open.

Derek first, and then Jackson, crawled elegantly into his room and stood at the side of his bed. Staring.

“What could you possibly want from my _life?_ ” Stiles groaned. He couldn’t really move much, but he twisted his head to bury it in the pillow.

Derek had questions.

First about Scott’s plan – Stiles didn’t know anything about that.

Next about being kidnapped by Gerard – It sucked. It hurt. Yes, Allison was involved. Yes, he was pretty sure Chris knew at least some of it. Yes, Gerard told him why, he was doing it to send a message to Scott. No, he didn’t tell Scott. No, Scott hadn’t come by or called. Yes, he has two broken ribs. Yes, Peter took him to Deaton. No, he doesn’t know why Peter’s so interested. No, he doesn’t have any pain meds. Yes, he would very much like another pain drain.

The last one wasn't actually a question from Derek. Stiles just added it as important information for the room.

Derek shared information too, he hadn't known about Scott's plan and considered the act a betrayal. He wouldn't be welcoming the other boy to join him again after this. 

And that was significant, Stiles knew that. But it wasn't like he could do much about it at the moment. Plus, Jackson's contribution to the conversation kind of blew his higher thinking skills out of the water.

“Look, I know you were trying to help. Locking me in a police van wasn’t cool, but I know you were just trying to stop me from hurting anyone else. I already got my dad to drop the restraining order an hour ago. I’m… I’m sorry you got beat up.”

He actually said he felt bad that Stiles was hurt… wow.

Stiles figured he could be a bigger person too, as long as Jackson had gone first. “It wasn’t your fault, dude. Matt and Gerard were psychos. Nothing you could have done.”

Jackson nodded. He could say he felt bad, but saying thanks was maybe a step too far outside of his comfort zone. “It’s not like it’s going to matter in three months anyway. I mean, my parents are freaked out enough that they’re sending me to some prep school in London for the rest of high school.”

“London, like, in England?” That was a curveball, but damn, having a conversation while laying on his stomach was hard. Stiles didn’t feel he was properly able to express his surprise.

“Yeah. Derek’s teaching me as much as possible before I’m gone. So I don’t like, hurt anyone else.”

“What about Lydia?”

Jackson sighed and looked around. Derek had already taken Stiles’ desk chair, so he plopped himself down next to the window. “We’re not back together or anything. Yeah I love her. And I know she still loves me. But she said she wanted to take some time to process things, so I’m staying out of her way for a while.”

“That’s… wow, that’s really mature.”

“Shut up, Stiles”

“What? I’m just saying, that’s a really mature decision. Proud of you, dude.”

Jackson rolled his eyes so hard.

“Come on,” Derek announced, getting Jackson up off the floor. Stiles thought they were leaving again, and felt a little disappointed for a second before Derek gestured to his pathetically prone, pain filled body, “You can learn how to take his pain. It won’t heal him, but it’ll give him relief for a little bit.”

“About thirty minutes,” Stiles let them know. “Peter’s only been gone for thirty, forty minutes. It hurts.”

While they were in the middle of that, highlighted by Derek’s hiss at the purple-tinge to the skin and Jackson’s shocked “Is that a _boot_ _print_?” the front door opened downstairs.

Stiles felt a thrum of alarm shudder in at the possibility that his dad had come back for some reason, but Derek quietly explained that it was just Peter.

If the man hadn’t walked back into the room carrying take-out food from Stiles’ favorite diner, he would’ve been more pissed when Peter dropped his ( _his)_ house keys down on the desk. The thief.

They helped him sit up so he could actually eat, and he commented that at least he hadn’t been electrocuted. The ensuing silence led to the explanation that Gerard had captured Erica and Boyd too. That they had been in the basement hooked up to some kind of battery and were being continuously electrocuted.

Derek was intimately familiar with the hunter tactic.

At the warehouse, Chris had tried to talk to him, said he let Erica and Boyd go. That was why Stiles was pretty sure the man knew at least some of what happened. He had to have known Stiles was there, why else would he come to him with that information otherwise.

But Erica and Boyd never showed up. Derek let the room know that both teens had told him they intended to leave. Stiles didn’t buy it. Peter looked like he wanted to kill something; he figured maybe that was the man's default setting now.

And Jackson was so shocked by everything that he just said, “I still can’t believe Allison would ever - ”

Stiles cut him off to assure him, “Oh, yes she would. She’s just as much of a psycho as the rest of her family.”

Derek and Peter took the new information that there were two missing betas somewhere out there and left to start the search immediately. It hasn’t been too long, but at the same time, it’s already been too long.

They leave Jackson with Stiles to keep draining the pain. Which Stiles is grateful for, and Jackson doesn’t really seem to have a problem with. Plus, it looks like he’s happy to have been given a task that _maybe_ gives him an opportunity to make up for everything that went wrong since he got the bite.

It wasn’t his fault, but there’s only so much Stiles can say to get that to sink in. But he guesses that it’ll come in its own time.


	2. Chapter 2

A week goes by with no sign of the two missing Betas. It sucks all around. And to say the stress is at an all time high with Derek, is underselling it.

Stiles never knew the man to be a chill, go with the flow kind of guy anyway. But the tension in whatever room Derek occupies is definitely palpable.

Something that really sucks when it’s added to an already stressful environment? Pain. Stiles likes to think he has a high pain tolerance on a good day. That being said, over the last week he’s become pretty close to a junkie with the pain drains.

In the evenings, Peter usually sits with him for a bit and just _pulls._ He goes way longer than Jackson or Derek, or even himself during the daytime draws. The result of a heavy session is that it knocks him the hell out for a decent amount of time.

And he is absolutely not complaining about that.

Sometime after he’s out, Peter will switch off with Jackson and head home for the evening.

Stiles was alarmed and jerked back too quickly the first time he woke up in the middle of the night to see Jackson curled up next to him. The sharp movement didn’t do him any favors with his ribs, and Jackson had to call in reinforcements at three in the morning.

Since then, he’s accepted that he’ll have a bedmate for the next few weeks at least.

He’s a little worried he might be getting used to that too.

But it’s not just a bedmate. He also has somehow acquired an extra roommate. Danny.

The second day Jackson spent the majority of his time in Stiles’ room (read: all day), he’d called Danny over to chill. Of course, ‘chilling’ turned into a sleepover, and an air mattress somehow materialized from the ether. Stiles knew it wasn’t in the house before that night.

After they woke up the next morning, Danny just sort of… stayed. So, now Stiles has two more people sharing his room.

Danny, smart boy that he is, noticed the pain drain right away.

“Dude, are you leaving Lydia for Stilinski?” This was on day two. Honestly, Stiles was impressed he waited a whole 24 hours to say anything. Granted, he’d read the situation _way_ wrong. But they could save it.

Well, they could have saved it if not for Peter waltzing his sarcastic ass into the room as Stiles was still spluttering at Danny’s question.

“Jackson isn’t making a move on Stiles. He’s simply using his newfound skills as a werewolf to help deal with the pain of broken ribs.”

Silence.

To his credit, Danny graciously accepted the plate of food Peter handed him, but then he just kind of stood there with a thoughtful look on his face. And then, “Yeah, that makes sense,” with a shrug.

“Are you kidding me? What the hell do you think you’re doing, Peter?”

And wow, Jackson was super pissed. 

“I was thinking,” Peter sassed back, clearly not concerned by an enraged Jackson, “that if the Stilinski’s have another boarder then he’s probably going to see something sooner or later. I just made it sooner.”

“He didn’t have to know ever! He’s _my_ friend, it should’ve been _my_ decision!”

“Excuse me?”

Oh good. Now Dany was upset.

“I didn’t have to know? Ever? I already knew, dumbass! I didn’t know freaking _werewolf_ , but I knew there was _something!”_

And that was a curveball. Apparently, Jackson thought so too. “Really?”

Peter settled down in the desk chair with his plate and started eating after seeing that Stiles was able to hold onto his own. He liked a show with his meals, if the expression of glee was anything to go by.

Danny was still pissed at Jackson, but it seemed to be blowing over. Unfortunately, the Hale men were obviously cursed with bad timing.

Derek climbed in the window.

Danny didn’t miss a beat. He threw his arm to the new face in the room and turning his angry stare on Stiles, “Oh, and I suppose you’re going to keep telling me his name is Miguel? Not, oh I don’t know, Derek Hale! Wanted Fugitive?”

Stiles, thankfully, thought he was a pro at remaining calm under pressure and deescalating the drama by now. “The charges were dropped. How do you even know that?”

“I’m a hacker!”

“That’s fair. Look, Danny, we weren’t keeping it from you on purpose…”

“Yes! You were! It was 100% on purpose!”

“Okay, that’s true too. But it was for your own safety. Not cause anyone has a ‘we-hate-Danny-club.’ Who would even have a club about that? You’re literally the nicest guy in the school. Seriously, it was just to keep you safe.”

And that’s how they filled Danny in on everything that’d been going on.

He took it about as well as one could hope. Plus, Jackson was his best friend. If Jackson had to deal with the good, the bad, and the ugly side of being a mythological creature, Danny was prepared to back him up.

That didn’t stop him from commenting after every new story with:

“You’re all crazy.” 

“That’s so stupid. And _you_ need therapy, that’s not what normal people do.”

“He didn’t _know_?”

“How are you not all dead by now?”

“I can’t believe you asked for the bite. God, you’re dumb.”

“What a dick.”

“You’re lying, that can’t be real.”

“Dude, that’s not cool.”

“That was poison!?”

“So, are you a vampire now, or like, the walking dead, or what?”

“Are you serious.”

“No really, no one can be that stupid.”

“Did you kick his ass?”

“I told you I never liked him.”

“Whoa, for real?”

“How does a vet know all this stuff?”

“Oh.”

“ _Why_ wouldn’t you go to the hospital?”

“So, did he die? Is there a body? You realize there’s a lot of dying happening in all this.”

“And he just left with her? Seriously!?”

And then finally, at the end of it all, he just looked at them each for few moments. “The only one I don’t get is Peter. How did you come back from being dead again?”

“Magic.”

“Ahhh…” He let out a big sigh and dramatically rolled his eyes off to the side. “Yeah, okay.”

The second surprise that week came, not from the Hales, but from the other idiot werewolf who’d invaded Stiles’ life.

And to be completely honest, if he didn’t have two broken ribs, and if Jackson hadn’t been so awesome about taking his pain left and right, Stiles was pretty sure Jackson would’ve been in for a lot worse than his indignation.

When the Sheriff came home to see the two classmates refitting a sheet on an air mattress next to Stiles’ bed, he asked them what was going on.

Stiles immediately supplied, “They’re just here to stay on top of our summer reading for next year.”

Right about the same time that Jackson said, “Just hanging out and playing some video games.”

Which only made it worse that Danny had also chimed in, “Team bonding, you know for lacrosse.”

Sheriff Noah Stilinski was not born yesterday. “Uh huh. So, if you’re all so interested in ‘bonding time,’ what was the restraining order about?”

Jackson’s dumb ass decided to snark back, “Would you believe I was bitten by a werewolf and Stiles was trying to save me from turning into a giant lizard instead?”

There was moment of silence in the room. Stiles liked to think it was for the sake of sanity. The Sheriff calmly walked through the doorway, grabbed the computer chair, and turned it to face the boys before plopping down. “Yes, I would.”

And then he did that thing he does when he’s talking to a perp; he leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, and looked at each of them with that intense cop glare that had Jackson and Danny sitting back (Stiles was immune. That’s totally a lie, he was terrified), “Explain. From the beginning.”

Despite initial protests that they were joking, the second unveiling of the week kicked off.

It didn’t go as smoothly as the first one.

Two hours and several hastily drawn diagrams later, when his dad is convinced everyone in the town might be a Kanima, they called in Peter and Derek. The Hales were a nice touch. They featured heavily in a few of the diagrams and backed up the boys' stories by sharing _everything_ including a fair bit of a cool sounding werewolf origin story. Well, actually, Derek was pretty quiet. But Peter made a whole production out of it.

Noah wants to go after the Argents, because of course he would. Except Peter said that might be difficult seeing as they’re in France right now.

They tell Noah about Erica and Boyd. Their parents, or grandparent in Boyd’s case, have already filed missing persons on both of them. They give him everything they know.

And even though Peter and Derek were spending their days tirelessly searching, somehow getting his dad involved felt like the first real speck of hope in a while.

Noah asked about the Hale’s living situation when Stiles made a comment about Derek keeping an eye for the two teens while he haunts the old house in the preserve.

“I’m not living there anymore smartass.”

“Anymore” Noah repeated, much to Peter’s smug face and Derek’s bashful one.

“I bought a building on the edge of Beacon Heights. It’s fine.”

Apparently, not even Jackson knew that. “A building. Like an apartment building?”

Peter snorted, “More like converted loft space… without so much of the conversion.”

“Derek, really? That’s worse than the depot.” An abandoned building was an abandoned building to Stiles.

“The depot?”

“What is there an echo in here?” The room responds to Stiles with stunned silence, which makes sense when he looks over at his dad’s face. “Sorry.”

But Derek forged on now that Stiles was muted. “It needs work, Sir. But it’s really not that bad. I’m fixing the top floor right now, and the other floors can be put together later.”

Jackson spoke up, or rather, demanded, “I want to see this place.”

And of course Danny was helpful in smoothing out Jackson’s hard edges. He smiled over at Derek and added, “Yeah, actually, I kind of do too. Lofts are cool.”

Derek extended a look of thoughtfulness to Noah, “We have the maps there, of the grid search for Erica and Boyd.”

They agree to all go together. It was really Noah who ultimately decided, but it sounded better to say it was a group decision. Derek might be the alpha, and Peter might be the most experienced of the group, but there was just something about Noah that screamed ‘ _Sheriff is in charge_ ’ that nobody questioned. 

Peter set Stiles up in the backseat of Derek’s new SUV with pillows and blankets galore before he and Noah moved to their own vehicles.

Jackson grabbed the extra space next to Stiles to drain any pain that came from the trip (he was really turning into a bro with this whole thing), while Danny took the open passenger seat in front.

Surprisingly, Derek was not as pissed at their group outing as Stiles figured he’d be. Up until now, he didn’t seem like he actually enjoyed people trouncing around his living space. But he was pretty relaxed the whole way there.

It was fine. His dad knew about werewolves now. He didn’t have a heart attack during the reveal. He was actually being supportive of everything. And most importantly, he was getting involved. Safely.

Stiles had been scared about him finding out mostly because he figured his dad would get all, ‘I will not have this in my town! I am the law! Respect my authority!’ while forgetting that supernatural creatures (and hunters) do not care about law enforcement, and will kill you just as dead as they would some random guy off the street.

So, it was nice to see he was approaching this with reason and caution. Of course, he was still a law enforcement officer.

“Do you have the inspection papers for this elevator? When was the last maintenance visit?”

They set Stiles up on the couch (he’d spent the last week being ‘set up’ places, it was becoming his new normal), but they brought the work table closer so he could still be engaged.

The grid search was impressive, with plans and notes in a few areas that Noah declared would be good places for his department to get on over the next few days. He wasn’t going to commandeer the search, but he could augment their party of two with trained officers. 

Stiles was quiet during the discussion, which the rest of them knew wasn’t always a good thing. His dad asked him about it during a lull in the conversation.

“Are we sure they’re still in the woods? I mean, if they are does that – does that mean you’re looking for bodies? They’re werewolves. It’s not like they twisted their ankles on a hike and need someone to find them. If they’re still alive, they should be able to walk out of there.”

Derek looked back down at the maps when he finished. “They’re still alive. I can still feel them.”

Which Stiles thought was helpful information, but it could be _more_ helpful? “Okay, so can you feel _where_ they are? Is that even a thing?”

“I know they’re alive, but they’re cut off from me. Something or someone is blocking them.”

His dad leaned against the table and addressed Stiles the way he’d learned to, explaining the background for him, “Stiles, the search isn’t just to look for people, or bodies. It’s to look for clues. If we can find the site of the abduction, there may be clues left to help us find whoever took them.”

Danny, sounding no less concerned than Stiles had, asked, “So you’re pretty sure they were taken again. And not by the Argents this time?”

“Like I said,” Peter answered, “The Argents left town. Also, we might have had a visit by another pack recently.”

Derek shot him a hard stare.

“What? I’m not the one who likes to withhold information.”

“Yeah, Derek. Sharing is Caring.” Jackson was spending too much time with Stiles if he was doing impressions this good.

“I should never have bitten you.”

Both Stiles and Jackson returned smug grins to Derek’s grumbling. The former adding, “Probably should have thought about that before the whole murder lizard thing.”

Danny, silently, looked off into the loft. But his face was screaming ‘ _OMFG_.’

It doesn’t get better when they start talking about the Alpha pack. Really, it’s more of a theoretical conversation. No one actually knows who they are. The symbol has been used for centuries, but there hasn’t been an alpha pack in years. 

Noah had to go, he had a shift starting soon. But he swept an arm towards the maps, “Can I take this with me?”

“Uhhh.” Peter and Derek both looked a bit uncomfortable with the idea, stalling in a response. 

But Danny, helpful Danny jumped in, “We can scan it for you sir,” before turning to Derek, “Do you guys have internet here?”

Another beat of silence from Derek where he cuts his eyes to Peter had Danny following up quickly, “Don’t worry, I have my own.” He pulled a MiFi and laptop out of his bag, because why would he go anywhere without it, and set it up on the table next to the map.

For his part, Peter walked Noah out after getting his permission to have the boys stay over. It’s just easier to have everything in one place. They’ll go on a food run later and stop by the house for their overnight bags.

When it was finally just the two of them in the hall, Peter detoured from the elevator to another one of the penthouses. There are three, forming the U shape of the building itself, all connected by the one long hall in front of the elevator door.

The one he led Noah to is his. It certainly hadn’t received the attention Derek’s had, and Noah doesn’t imagine the man is actually living in there yet.

But there are some trunks and boxes in the front room, so he’s clearly staked his claim on the space. There’s also a safe in one of the first rooms Peter leads him to. In point of fact, there are a few safes. Big ones.

Peter opened the one furthest from the door and pulled out a green ammo canister before handing it off to Noah.

“Those are wolfsbane bullets, nine millimeter. That should fit your service weapon, yes?” he got a nod from Noah and continued. “Derek’s not stupid enough to flash his eyes at you. If you see red, you shoot.”


	3. Chapter 3

It took about a month. Just four weeks of their small group doing the same things day in and day out, for it to really settle into second nature.

Are Derek and Peter going to spend the day scouring the preserve for the missing teens? Yep, definitely. What else would they be doing?

Is Danny going to hack into camera footage from all around town doing the same thing? Almost certainly, as long as it’s stored online, it’s his. And then a follow up to that one: Is Sheriff Stilinski going to look the other way as Danny violates whatever privacy law exists that says he shouldn’t be doing that? Of course, he is.

Then there’s Stiles and Jackson. Funny enough, while Jackson might play at being the dumb jock, it might’ve been because the bar was on the floor in terms of impressing people with his smarts. He actually makes a decent research companion with Stiles as they scour Peter’s books for info on Alpha packs.

So. They are a month into their Summer break, and they have a pretty solid routine nailed down.

Over dinner one night into their fourth week, Jackson takes the carry-out food from Peter and asks, “Hey, do you think one of you guys could make a trip back earlier tomorrow?”

Peter gave him an appraising look. “Did you need help with something?”

And honestly, why can’t the guy just say yes or no? It’s always a push-pull.

“Yeah, Jacks. You got somewhere to be?”

He gave Stiles a mild glare. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second, yes. I promised my dad I’d do some hours in his office for the summer.”

“That’s nice. I used to do that down at the station. Hey, maybe I could just go there,”

Noah cut him off, “Not until you’re healed.”

“Yeah well,” Jackson continued, “It’s my dad’s payment for not sending me to London.”

Stiles was excited to hear that, and immediately noticed Danny was suspiciously silent. Almost as if he already knew. But hey, if the Whittemore’s weren’t sending him across the pond in a couple months, he could ignore the fact that he wasn’t the first to know and just be happy.

In fact, it seemed to make the rest of them happy as well. “Good to hear,” Derek told him quietly, giving a tiny smile across the room. There and gone quick enough to miss, but Stiles saw what looked like crows’ feet around the eyes for half a second, so it totally counted.

“It’s just a couple hours a few days a week,” Jackson added. “I just didn’t want to leave Stiles alone if he starts hurting again.”

“Pffff,” Stiles waived off the concern. “I’ve been doing better, I’m sure a few hours here and there isn’t going to break me.”

Danny jumped in, “Yeah, and I’ll be here if he needs something. Or I can call them back if it get’s bad. Don’t worry about it, just do what you gotta do.”

They wrote off the whole “dying on the pitch” thing as anaphylactic shock from a random food allergy for his parents. Danny had checked the hospital records and made sure the notes supported the claim, even going so far as having Noah talk to Melissa about backing the story up.

Speaking of Melissa, “Should we have her check out your ribs?” Noah asked. “I know you said Deaton’s got it, but she works in an actual hospital. She might be able to take a look.”

Derek didn’t look like he was in favor of the idea. Neither did Peter. “Are you thinking of inviting her here?”

And even though Peter’s words didn’t implicitly state it was a bad idea, his tone wasn’t very subtle.

“I’d rather that not happen,” Derek added. “Noah, you and Stiles can see her if you think that’s best. But not… not here, if you don’t mind.”

Noah watched Derek for a moment from his seat on the couch. Then he glanced at Peter, sitting over on the stairs. Derek looked extremely uncomfortable, while Peter was confident about displaying his distaste.

“I wouldn’t bring her here if it’s not something you’re comfortable with. But I have to ask… It’s just Melissa, what _nefarious_ plot do you think she’s coming up with?”

Peter snorted his amusement. “Her? Not a thing. But would she tell her son about this place? I would put money on that happening, even if you asked her not to. Also, I don’t want her sharing anything about Stiles’ injuries.”

“And we don’t trust Scott?” Noah turned surprised eyes on his son.

Peter answered for him. “Scott, Isaac, Melissa… No. We don’t trust them.”

“Isaac?” Danny interjected, looking over at Derek. “I thought he was with you?”

Derek shook his head and turned his focus to the floor. “He’s staying at Scott’s. He said he wanted to help with the search, but it’s been over a month and he hasn’t called.”

Noah was confused. “I’m sorry, why aren’t we trusting Scott anymore?”

“Dad, remember we talked about the whole showdown in the warehouse. With Gerard and the Kanima and everything?” Stiles’ voice was surprisingly calm and mature sounding. No grand gestures. Almost delicate, in a way.

“Yeah,” Noah nodded. “Gerard got bit but it didn’t take because of the drugs.”

Stiles nodded back. “Right. But Derek would rip every fang out of his own mouth and claw himself to death before he willingly gave Gerard the bite.”

“Well, that’s a nice mental image.”

“Shut up, Jacks. Seriously dad, he would do it. That’s how much Derek hates Gerard. Scott used his new werewolfy strength, held Derek by the neck, and forced him to give that man something… something he sees as a gift.”

No one argued against Stiles’ retelling of the events. And maybe it’s because he was still being gentle in how he was talking, like he was actually trying to tiptoe around a painful memory out of consideration for the man involved. 

But that consideration didn’t stop him from driving the point home. “There’s another word we could use for that, dad. I’m sure you’ve seen it enough times at work. Guy uses his strength to take something _intimate_ from another person…”

The loft was still silent, but Derek stood from where he was leaning against the table, padded softly to the door, and quietly exited. Slamming the door closed behind him with a clang loud enough for Stiles to worry it would dent the metal.

“I’ll go make sure he doesn’t hurt anything,” Peter offered, scrubbing a tired hand over his face before following his nephew down into the dark, abandoned sections of the building.

Noah didn’t bring Melissa up after that. Not later that night, and not ever again.

Stiles kept his weekly check-ins with Deaton, with Peter overseeing the visits. By week five, Stiles was honestly feeling much better. The bruises looked better. Still present, but improving as expected.

Deaton continued to run his scans using equipment better suited to animal exams, but if it worked, it worked. He added a tea to Stiles’ daily regimen that supposedly promoted healing, and an external cream that did the same thing from the outside.

“It’s like the Sleepytime tea from the store,” Stiles had told his dad after Peter started bringing him a cup before he was due to turn in each night. Noah noticed that once Stiles finished a cup, he’d start getting droopy inside of fifteen minutes. “Except it’s got ‘healing properties’ or something.”

Again, if it worked, it worked.

Also, Jackson and Danny decided that Stiles was ready to add another layer to his healing. In the fifth week, they pack Stiles up in Danny’s car (a parting gift from his parents before they hightailed it out of town), and take him to the gym at the school.

“Dude, are we breaking in, where did you get the keys?”

Jackson chuckled back, “No dumbass. Coach gave me keys to keep up with weight training. And the rest of the building’s open for summer school anyway.”

Speaking of Coach, Finstock met them in the locker room when they made it in. “Okay Bilinski! The boys tell me you need the hydrotherapy tub.”

“What?”

“You’re not much use to me if you’re still broken when the season starts, not that you’re going to see much action anyway, but I need you in the wings! Let’s get you set up.”

Again, “What?”

Danny grinned, “He’s still a little medicated Coach,” _(no he wasn’t)_ “Can you show me how to start this thing again?”

Finstock agreed, of course, but he did add, “You better not get hooked on the prescription meds, Bilinski. My cousin Huey was addicted to Oxy so bad he switched to meth when they cut him off at the clinic. Rotted half his face off with that garbage. I won’t have a meth head on the team, you hear me?”

Stiles nodded dumbly, “Sure thing, Coach. No meth.”

“Good, you remember that. Let’s get you inside then.”

The ice bath was not his favorite. But they didn’t make him stay in for too long before they shuffled him into the heated water. It was like a whirlpool, and it was heaven. Having to do the breathing exercises while he either suffered through, or luxuriated in the water wasn’t fun, but Deaton had been insistent that he needed to practice deep breaths on a regular.

And Jackson was a taskmaster with the whole thing.

“Really, dude. This whole bossing me around thing, not a good look on you.”

“Shut up, I’m helping. Now take a deep breath and hold it for three.”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Stiles grinned back. “Is this like a burgeoning dominatrix kink? How did I not know this about you?”

“That’s the word for women, I think,” Danny supplied from the weights area.

“Both of you, shut up. Stiles, deep breath!”

“Just do it, dude. Jackson being pissy is how he shows affection.” Danny was hilarious, even if his friend didn’t think so. “It means he cares.”

Jackson didn’t respond, just rolled his eyes and waited for compliance.

Stiles was a little touched, to be honest. So, he relented with a huff and a smile. Taking a very unpleasant deep breath. And holding it for three. The pain caused the smile to disappear, but Jackson stayed with him through it all, and he finished his exercises.

Not that they hadn’t already been bonding, but the gym sessions brought it out a little more. The gym showers were convenient too. Stiles had decided _very_ early on in his stay at the lofts that Derek needed to invest in a whole bathroom upgrade. It hadn’t happened yet, and didn’t look like it was coming anytime soon.

The gym showers at the school are spacious and come equipped with hand bars to keep him standing if he gets tired.

Jackson, bro of all bros helps him shampoo his hair. They don’t talk about it. It’s just a nice bro thing to do.

Danny thinks it’s adorable.

By the end of week seven, even Noah was pleased with the improvements. Stiles had pain drains, magic tea, magic cream _(“It’s not magic, Stiles. Stop.” “It came from a magic user, Dad. That makes it magic.”),_ water therapy, breathing exercises, and lots of rest. It was enough to do the job.

But the search and investigation into their unwanted visitors wait for no man. They don’t know who all is in the Alpha pack, but Peter recognized two scents while they were searching the woods.

Two alphas he knew before the fire: Kali and Ennis.

Derek is unsettled. “Why didn’t they hide their scents?” He asked the same evening Peter mentioned it to the group.

“It could be a fear tactic,” Peter surmises. “But then again, why would they think anyone would recognize them? You were a kid at the time, you never met them.”

Derek accepted it, but, “Still, if we have their scents, we could track them.”

“Can we? It hasn’t worked so far.”

Derek sent an annoyed glance over to his uncle. Even when Peter was being helpful, he still managed to sound like an asshole a lot of the time.

“Think about it. They let you catch the scent, but hide it again before you can follow it anywhere. It’s a good strategy if you want to scare the person you’re targeting. And for all they know, I’m dead and gone. No reason for them to think there’s anyone left who knew them.”

Noah remembered Ennis from back in the day. When Peter brought him up he was itching to head back to the office and look op old notes. “But why would they come to Beacon Hills?” He asked. “Why now?”

Peter actually looked like he was considering the question. “Well, depending on who’s sharing information, the last report out could’ve been what? Feral alpha? Rogue omega? Kanima? Hunter infestation? Any one of those could’ve brought them in.”

Stiles liked a good puzzle. “Right, but how did the report get out in the first place?”

Someone was sharing information, but who? The Argents? While they would never work with wolves, it’s possible their lines were being tapped.

“Who brought Laura back?” There was no way to be delicate about the question, so Stiles just threw it in.

“Deaton,” Peter answered. “He’d ended his tenure with the Hale pack by that time, but he would’ve been the one to draw her in again.”

As it happened, Stiles was due for another weekly checkup that weekend.

“I’m going with you this time,” Noah stated, using the full force of his Sheriff Voice ™.

Unfortunately for him, Peter had never been allayed by positions of authority. “Not a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

The whole room, if they hadn’t been paying attention before, were definitely interested in their exchange now. But they all kept quiet, even Derek, waiting to see whose temper outweighed the other.

Peter was a good negotiator though, and eased Noah back down to see reason. “If it is Deaton, then he already knows about me. So, that information is lost. But he doesn’t know that that _you_ know anything yet. He knows I’m bringing Stiles to see him rather than the hospital in order to keep the injuries under wraps. That naturally extends to you not knowing about Stiles’ condition. Better to keep it that way.”

“He’s right,” Derek added. “I don’t know Deaton enough to say I trust him. He’s helped Stiles out, but he’s also connected to Scott. And through him, to the Argents. There’s no way to know how much he’s given them already.”

Peter mulled it over. “I don’t think he would share information about Stiles directly, he swore on his emissary oaths not to, and druids have always been high-maintenance about swearing on an oath. But there’s nothing to keep him from divulging any _other_ information.” 

“Fine, fine,” Noah relented. “You’ve made your point.”

Which meant that once that Saturday arrived, Peter was the one driving Stiles to see the vet. Alone.

He really was improving nicely, and he answered Deaton honestly about the deep breathing exercises (He hated them. They were a bitch. He’d rather not do them at all, thank you. But yes, he was doing them). 

He hardly needed to have his pain drained anymore, even on the ride over, Peter hadn’t had to take any for the whole trip. But Deaton still wanted him to take it easy for at least another two or three weeks. If he could push for a whole extra month that would be better.

Once the exam portion of the visit was done, Peter started in on his own questions.

“We’ve talked about this,” Deaton returned the first volley. “I understood you wanted to keep Mr. Stilinski’s situation to yourselves, so no, I haven’t shared that with anyone.”

“And what about the rest of the happenings in the territory?” Peter asked. “Hunters, Kanimas, new wolves… Talk to anyone about that?”

“If this line of questioning is leading up to you requesting I resume my duties, then I have to say -”

“Not a chance, Alan.” Peter cut him off, shutting that idea down quick. “You were my sister’s confidant. You don’t have that same position with my nephew. I simply want to know who you talked to about us.”

Because that was the thing, he had talked. His careful wording and long pauses before answers might seem enigmatic to some, but Stiles recognized it for what it actually was. Evasion. He’d perfected it with his Dad, he should know what it looked like.

“Look, Doc, we’re not saying you did it to like, _betray_ Derek or anything. But we just need to know who knows. You know?”

“Gentlemen, I assure you, the only person I spoke to about this territory was my sister. I’ve often sought her counsel when dealing with… abnormal situations.”

Peter took a deep breath. Sometimes, getting anything from Deaton meant that one had to be very direct, and ask very simple questions. “And what is her name?”

Deaton raised an eye at Peter’s aggrieved tone. “Her name is Marin, and I don’t believe you would have ever been in a position to meet her.”

“Marin…” Stiles mumbled, turning things over and over in his memory. He knew that name. It wasn’t common, and he knew he’d seen it written somewhere. “Marin Deaton?”

“No, she took our mother’s maiden name. Marin Morrell.”

Stiles’ face went slack in dawning realization. Peter noticed.

“What is it?” He asked.

“She’s here.”

Deaton interjected. “No, she’s in San Fransisco. Close by if I needed her to assist, but not in the territory.”

“No,” Stiles watched him with a hard stare. He didn’t think there was intentional deception, but it was so hard to tell with the older man. “She’s here. She was the school counselor. I had to see her right after Matt died.”

“That was months ago.” Peter added.

“I’m sorry, I think you must be mistaken. I’ve spoken to my sister more recently than that. She would’ve told me if she were here.”

Stiles started to describe her for them and Deaton, now looking truly uncomfortable, retrieved a picture of the two of them. It was her.

“You didn’t know she was here?” Peter asked. Again, short, direct questions.

“No. I had no idea.”

Stiles couldn’t tell if Deaton was more uncomfortable, or angry, or anxious, or maybe it was all of the above. Either way, he ushered them out quickly after that. And he looked upset enough that not even Peter questioned his hurried movements. 

He was seeing something they weren’t though, and that was scratching at Peter’s brain just enough for him to try and see what was missing from the board before they were well and truly ‘kicked out’ of the office.

And then, “One more thing Alan. You said you sought her counsel. Was that because she is a druid? Or because she’s an emissary?”

Peter wasn’t quelled by the unfiltered anger sent his way. And Stiles was shocked to see it so clearly on Deaton’s usually calm face.

They waited just outside the back door for a response. It took more than a minute.

“Marin has taken emissary vows in the past, as I did.”

Peter grinned back, smile full of teeth. But it never quite touched his eyes.

There it was. The leak in the whole boat. Deaton may have been trying to obfuscate the information by implying it was in the past, but it didn’t work. Unlike his own oaths, dead and buried, his sister’s vows were very much alive and active.

She was an emissary. And she was in town. And the Alpha pack was in town. She was emissary to the Alpha pack.

And Deaton, unknowing though it was, had been feeding information to them.

Peter let the man push them out after that. He had no doubt Deaton would be wracking his brain for the rest of the day, going over every conversation he’d had with her for the last few months.

It wasn’t like they didn’t need that information too, but he figured they could give the man a little time to come to terms with the idea of a family member betraying his trust. He would come back alone sometime in the next week. He could give him that.

Back at the loft, they walked into a circus of Derek and Noah trying to maneuver a mattress up to the top floor using the spiral stairs while Danny tried to direct from the ground.

Peter stared at the scene in disbelief for a few seconds, head slowly shaking from side to side. “Stop. Just stop,” he sighed. “Derek, go to the top landing. Noah drop the mattress please.”

I clattered back down to the floor and landed with a woosh. Danny let a little cough go into his elbow. “Ugh, someone needs to sweep, there’s more dust in here than I thought.”

Peter walked over and stood the mattress up. In one quick movement, he tossed it in the air where it was caught by Derek and Noah, now standing on the second-floor landing.

They promptly disappeared into the bedroom above while Stiles deemed it safe enough to finally join Peter. Danny wandered over to the corner where Jackson had been the whole time. And Stiles only then noticed he was engaged in building something.

“What’s happening?” he asked over to the two.

Jackson didn’t even bother looking up. “We hate the air mattresses,” he grumbled. “We’re not doing it anymore.” 

“So, we get bunkbeds?”

“They’re nice bunkbeds, not some cheap shit.”

To be fair, they don’t look that bad. The mattresses are fulls, not twins. And the wood looks nice. And Stiles can see bags of bedding in the corner. He’s been sleeping on Derek’s couch because it was the easiest and most comfortable surface. But weeks of an air mattress had clearly pushed Jackson past his point of civility.

“It’s just for now.” Danny assures them. “When the other lofts are cleaned up, Derek says we can spread out. But it makes sense for us to be together with what’s going on.”

Which, okay. Stiles figured he was sort of pack now and it’s sort of awesome how Danny just kind of _fits_. But it’s a little weird to be talking about living in the rest of the building. They all have their own homes. He says as much.

Except, as it turns out, that’s not necessarily true.

Danny’s parents are moving back to Hawaii next month. They don’t think it’s safe here anymore, and he was going to stay with Jackson. He’ll be eighteen soon anyway.

And that had Stiles jumping in with confusion. “How are you turning eighteen dude? We’re _just_ going into junior year.”

Danny shrugged back, “A year in juvie does that.”

Noah, who has come back downstairs with Derek just in time to hear that bit of the conversation looks suspiciously like he was well aware of that fact.

“I know you got in trouble for the hacking thing. But seriously, what did you do to get a whole year in juvie?”

“Stiles,” his dad steps in, “That’s none of your business, is it?”

Noah gives his son a weighty stare, and while Stiles raised his hands in deference, he does not look mollified in the least. “Stiles! You will _not_ go digging into your friend’s records.”

“ _Again,”_ Danny muttered. _Not_ quietly.

“Stiles, really? I’m changing my passwords as soon as I get into the office.”

Derek snorted as he walked over to help Jackson set up the beds. “I wouldn’t be surprised, Sir. They’re all delinquents.”

“What did _I_ do?” Jackson exclaimed, dropping the wooden slats onto the bed.

Noah decided to take that one. “Underage drinking.” He watched with a smug expression as Jackson decided the floor was super interesting. “Yeah, I know what happens at high school parties, kid.”

It’s only been a short while, but Jackson’s attitude has nearly evaporated with Noah. He’s glad to see there’s more to the boy than a spoilt child. So he grins over to show there’s no real animosity behind his words.

“Anyway,” Danny interrupted, “The bunkbeds are fine for now. Stiles, you get a bottom bunk. Jackson and I will take the tops, and Sheriff, there’s an open one for you if you just want to crash sometime.”

“That’s nice, Danny, thank you.” Noah could get used to a few more helpful hands being around. They were, all three of them, good kids at heart.

So, of course, Stiles had to ruin that moment.

“Wait. Why do I get a bottom bunk? Is this like some kind of prison psychology from your juvie days? Does me being on the bottom mean I’m lower on the totem pole or something?”

Jackson immediately turned pissed on his friend’s behalf, Derek looked tired but pushed his beta back to the bed construction, Noah looked appalled _(and really? how was Stiles’ lack of a brain-to-mouth filter a shock at this point?)_ , and Peter was clearly enjoying the show.

Danny graciously let it slide off and serenely explained, “It’s because of your healing ribs. Climbing to the top would be harder for you. Asshole.”

Stiles considered the facts for a minute. “That’s fair.”


End file.
